


The Galatarium

by whystherumgone



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), TFTBL - Fandom, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Buy this game while you still can, Canon Rewrite, Choices are made, Drama, Episode 2, F/M, Fiona and Rhys were meant to be together, Humor, Observatory, Oneshot, Plot, Romance, Stargazing, Why is Telltale not making a sequel, i'll fight you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whystherumgone/pseuds/whystherumgone
Summary: Rhys, Fiona, and Jack take a trip to the Atlas Observatory. Just kidding - we're rewriting the TFTBL Episode 2 ending.
Relationships: Fiona/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	The Galatarium

**Author's Note:**

> I replayed TFTBL recently and was struck, again, how clearly the soundtrack and environment in the Galatarium (aka observatory at the end of E2) were setting up Fiona/Rhys. My guess is that Telltale had at least two more parts planned to TFTBL in which they were going to explore this romance option. But we all know what happened there... RIP Telltale, our dearest, you will be missed. So we have this instead. More might or might not be on the way...

The Galatarium changes everything.

He could choose to pretend that the burning feeling at the back of his throat is just the aftermath of Vasquez rearranging his insides with that punch or breakfast coming up to say hello (again). 

But when Fiona cautiously steps onto the platform opposite of his own, recognition surfaces unbidden. 

He has always loved the stars. 

Before he began climbing the corporate ladder, before he forgot what real friendships felt like, before he lost himself… he had dreamed of space. The orphanage in which he grew up had been an unkind place, but it had had some redeeming qualities. After all, his caretakers had been moderately sane and meals had been served somewhat regularly. Frankly, what little Rhys recalls about his time at the institution is centered around a single place – its rooftop. 

_That_ had been his childhood. The cool surface of that rooftop against his back and the endless sky above. He had spent so many glorious hours picturing himself among the stars. Imagining, with aggressive precision, how he would get there, how he would excel, how he would impress. He had been completely enchanted.

Which is exactly why now, as Fiona’s platform gently descends to join his, he cannot hide from the same sensation tingling at the base of his spine. 

Adoration.

He is in love with Fiona.

He is also probably having a heart attack. 

Naturally, the two platforms slot into place just as his existential crisis peaks and Rhys is exposed to Fiona’s assessing stare. “What,” she barks immediately.

“Nothing!” he grins cheekily because his palms are sweating and his leg muscles are cramping from panic, but he has never felt more alive. “Nothing at all – hi, hello Fiona, uh, hi, how are you?” 

She gives him the brow but takes pity. “Fantastic. Just had a lovely chat with August. Pretty sure he intends to shoot me in the back and feed me to skags after we’re done here. Oh and then he wants to marry Sasha. Cause, you know, he thinks they’re still an item and that she wouldn’t be opposed to seeing my carcass before the wedding. Maybe for good luck.”

Rhys glances up to the red barrier behind which he can see Vasquez holding a gun to Vaughn’s head in the main room of the abandoned Atlas facility. Fiona follows his gaze.

“Yeah,” she says warily. “Any ideas on how we get out of this?”

After countless years of backstabbing, lies, and banal platitudes at Hyperion, it still feels novel to have his opinion solicited genuinely. He almost wishes Vaughn was in the room to stop him from saying the obscenely ridiculous, reputation-damaging words he’s about to utter. 

“Whatever we do, let’s do it together, Fiona,” he offers.

She inclines her head. “Uh, obviously? How exactly would you expect me to take out that many goons by myself?”

“No,” Rhys explains, catching and holding her gaze purposely before continuing. “No, I mean… I want to live through this, _with you_. And when it’s done, I want to continue living through whatever comes my way. With you.”

Fiona freezes in place, eyes wide and mouth agape with incredulity.

He looks back up at the barrier to give her some privacy. Unsurprisingly, she will need time to process this sudden change in attitude. And, if he’s totally honest with himself, _he_ will need therapy (in addition to time) to process this damn change in attitude. But all of that will have to wait because Vasquez is now choking Vaughn for dramatic effect and August looks about ready to throttle Sasha. 

Rhys rolls his eyes and turns back to the con-woman, gesturing at the device in front of them. “Let’s get moving with this, I think, or Vasquez might tear out his hair implants and scar everyone for life in a permanent sort of way.”

But the uncertainty on Fiona’s face is long gone. She’s also standing closer than Rhys can recall from a moment ago.

“Okay,” she says. And Rhys may be ridiculous at times but can recognize the reply for what it is.

A little breathless, he looks down to see whether he’s still standing on the platform, then glances around at the black sea of stars displayed on the walls encircling them. The galaxy clusters shimmer brilliantly. He’s mostly sure this is not a dream.

“Rhys,” Fiona’s voice chimes, and her eyes are dancing when he looks up. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. In his chest, it feels like a promise, a contract, and most likely the greatest deal he has ever closed.

After that, assembling the white ball that later turns out to be Gortys is an exercise in flawless grace. Rhys spends most of it tuning out Jack’s whinging (Jack is certainly a bro, but he’s also a bit of a mixed murderer/stand-up comedian bag these days) and finding opportunities to brush his fingers against Fiona’s while they’re pushing and shoving the heavy machinery into place.

Fiona not only notices the game but joins in as an active participant... and then dominates it. When the alarms trigger, she whispers hotly in his ear that she has a plan and that he should trust her. Rhys can only give her a lopsided smile and step in closer to discreetly grab her hand because pretending that he has any choice in the matter is futile. Rhys has been on Fiona’s side since the vault key fiasco. Or maybe even before he knew his own name; potentially before superclusters collapsed into galaxies.

Soon enough there’s a smoke grenade, more comprehensive ruckus, and an escape through a previously concealed vent (convenient!). They’ll have to deal with the turrets and go rescue the rest of the gang in a minute, but first Rhys has to laugh aloud about something he’s realizing.

“We just inserted a smaller piece into a bigger piece and created a whole new thing… Fiona, did we just make a baby?”

Fiona kisses Rhys senseless.

_After_ she punches him in the neck, of course.


End file.
